Rabbit Heart
by noelswonderland
Summary: Nothing good comes from seeking revenge. But even if she knows that, it's the only path in front of her now. Even if it means aligning herself with someone that she despises. OC x Midorima / Slight OC x Akashi
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Superior is something of a prequel to this story, but you don't _have_ to read it if you don't want to. (Everything will make infinitely more sense later on if you do, though.) These two stories are _heavily _intertwined.

Rabbit Heart takes place shortly after the beginning of the actual series. It is therefore _not_ a Teikou story, although there are events about Teikou within it.

That said, big thanks to Tomey for beta reading, and I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter One**

"...and Hachioji Jun. That's it for reserves."

As soon as the announcement was made, murmurs broke out through the first-year players who were basically condemned to the position of "bench warmer" for the remainder of the year. "Hachioji? But he's the scrawniest guy here, he's almost like a _girl_." That actually was not as quite as far off as they might have thought. Jun was not exactly anatomically male, though her figure was androgynous enough to pass off as such.

"Practice hard," the coach advised, seeming to ignore the chatter.

With that, their "meeting" was adjourned. Everyone else broke away to either mutter their complaints about the selection or to resume practice. Jun did neither—she grabbed her jacket off the bench, slipped it on, and headed for the locker room. Changing in there was not an option, but she did have to make a point of popping in and out just to allay the suspicions of her teammates.

When she cracked open the door and ducked in, Jun was mildly surprised to run almost head first into someone a whole head taller than her. And she could feel her stomach lurch when she peered up and found those emerald irises glaring down at her.

"Excuse me," she mumbled, side-stepping to bypass him.

"You should give up."

Jun had only made it a few steps when she heard him say that. She peered over her shoulder. "What?"

"Even as a reserve, you will never play a game." He returned her gaze coolly, lifting a finger to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. His face was still covered in a thin layer of sweat from practice.

Rather than his words having the edge of someone trying to be confrontational, it seemed more likely that he was giving his honest observation. That almost made it more painful—because she realized that he was only stating the truth as he saw it. She swallowed back her anger, breathing a sigh. "I never asked for your opinion. And I'd really prefer if you didn't talk to me. I don't like you."

"Hm," he grunted back. Perhaps Jun had expected for him to confirm that the feeling was mutual, but that steely gaze told her that he didn't even consider her _worth_ disliking. But as he left, she caught a glimpse of the koi keychain dangling from his schoolbag—and she could only guess it was his lucky item for the day.

As soon as he was gone, she stalked over to her locker and wrenched it open. As much as she tried to remain calm talking to him, there was something about how Midorima always gave the impression of being laidback that set her off. Maybe it also had something to do with him being one of the only first years that had managed to make the core team, while she had only _just_ made it to reserves.

_It's okay,_ she reassured inwardly. _There's still plenty of time before Interhigh. If I improve, the coach might switch me in... right?_

Three weeks, to be precise. Not enough time for a rapid enough improvement to surpass the second year currently occupying her position. Shutoku already had a strong team with talented core players; the reserves were just insurance, occasionally swapped in to save the stamina of the core. But other than that, they rarely saw a game.

Yanking her bag out of the locker, she slung it over her shoulder before stalking back out of the locker room. Even Jun had to acknowledge that her dream was too far off to be a reality. Maybe that's all it would ever be—a dream.

As she was shuffling toward the front gate, kicking the ground along the way, she heard a familiar ringtone coming from her bag. For the first time that entire day, a smile worked its way up on her narrow lips as she flipped the phone open. "Hey," Jun greeted with a hint of laughter.

_"You took so long to answer, I didn't think you would,"_ a feminine voice sulked from the other end.

"Did you have an appointment today?"

There was a sigh on the other end. _"Yeah. I already got out a few days ago, I'm not sure why they're still wanting to monitor me so closely. I'm feeling just fine now."_

"Hey, Yuki. I'll come see you today—"

_"No,"_ the voice on the other end interrupted. _"Sorry, Jun-chan, I miss you and I want to see you. But give me a little bit longer to recover."_ It had always been that way—the two of them had been best friends since childhood, and Yuki's weak constitution coupled with her health problems had ended in frequent hospital stays. When that happened, to Jun's dismay, Yuki refused to see her. _I don't want you to see me when I'm sick._

There was a pause where Jun tried to think of the words to say to mask her disappointment. "Then soon. You start school next week, right? Before next weekend, let me come see you." There was desperation in her voice, though she hoped Yuki wouldn't notice it. There was nothing that Yuki disliked more than being excessively worrried about.

_"Alright, I'll be looking forward to it."_

"Yeah. It's a date, okay?"

There was a giggle. _"Okay! Bye-bye, Jun-chan."_

The conversation ended with a click and Jun snapped her phone shut before stuffing it back into her bag. Her house loomed in the distance—a dilapidated traditional Japanese home. It was worn by time and unkempt by the only other resident that lived there. Almost as soon as Jun stepped in through the front gate, she found herself greeted by a familiar puddle of wrinkles in the form of a face.

"Ya nimrod, ya forgot ta lock the door again!" her grandmother chided, brandishing the broom in her hand as though it was a sword and she a knight. "Ya always—"

"I always ignore you and leave the door unlocked which invites thieves to just take off with our possessions," Jun recited, having heard the same line at least a dozen times throughout her childhood. In the absence of any parents, she had been raised by this stout, sassy woman whose general facial expression was set into a constant scowl.

"Hmpf. If ya know what I'm gunna say, then jus' lock the door next time."

"Yes, Grandmother. I'm sorry." Although her apology didn't sound entirely sincere. Jun had more on her mind than locking the front door. And it obviously hadn't ended in mishap anyways—otherwise the older woman would have been far angrier. "What are we having for dinner?"

"Tch, jus' get home and yer already worried 'bout your next meal. All ya do is eat," the shorter woman grumbled to herself, giving a pointed glare at her granddaughter.

Jun's resemblance to her grandmother was rather uncanny – a pale complexion, eyes nearly as dark as coal, and hair the same ashy color. But unlike her grandmother, Jun's hair was loosely curled and hanging unkempt down to her jaw. When she had asked about the texture of her hair, her grandmother had off-handedly replied that it was a probably from her mother's side.

"Well, don't jus' stand there. Get yer butt in here and help me make supper."

"Yes, grandma."

—

"Go, Hachijoi!"

Slipping past the defense was tricky, but perhaps her time on the track team in junior high had come in handy for something. She made it just as the ball came soaring toward her. She caught it just before she jumped through the air. The swish of the net was satisfying, especially followed by the echo of the ball smashing against the ground.

Almost as soon as she landed, Jun pivoted and started toward the other end of the court with the rest of her teammates. Practice was nearly over for the day and she had sweat pouring down her face. The taste of salt rolled across her tongue. She had never worked quite so tirelessly – and yet she still heard the echo of Midorima's words in her head. _"You should give up."_ It was a struggle to swallow.

As much as she wanted to dismiss those as words of a pessimistic elitist, they were _true_. Perhaps that's what made them even more painful to hear. His honesty should have been a redeeming quality, but Jun would have preferred words of encouragement. Even if they were lies.

_No,_ she amended, feeling a spark of indignation toward herself. _No, if he lied to me then there would have been no point in coming to the same school as him._ The whole reason she had transferred to Shutoku was to be with Midorima – ironic, considering how much she didn't like him. But of the Generation of Miracles, she had only ever spoken with Midorima and... Akashi.

"Akashi," she repeated his name under her breath. It tasted bitter on her tongue. He was the whole reason she was here to begin with.

"Hachioji!"

Her head snapped – just in time for her to realize that the ball was coming toward her. Grabbing it, she started toward the other side of the court – only to find the way blocked by a particularly bulky body. He had proved difficult to bypass the last time but he would surely be even harder this time.

_I have to improve. More... faster... I have to hurry._

There was no choice. She already knew – if she kept up at this rate, she wouldn't see a single _real_ game until next year. So there was only one thing left to do...

—

"Midorima-san." She had called out to him several times, but he seemed content to continue walking ahead of her toward the locker room as though he had never heard her at all. That seemed unlikely. If Jun were to guess, he was probably avoiding or ignoring her since their last encounter. It had been several days since, however, and she had mulled over the issue until she wanted to vomit. "Midorima-san!"

"Yelling is unnecessary," he informed matter-of-factly, finally pausing to allow her to catch up.

"If you had answered me the first time, I wouldn't have had to yell."

"I recall you saying you would prefer we didn't speak." He was glaring coldly at her as he spoke. If she hadn't known better, she might have thought him offended. More likely, he saw no point in any further interaction between the two of them. He had made his opinion clear.

Jun grimaced in turn. "There is something more important than that."

"Oh?" It was only at that point that she noticed the rather elaborately carved statue that he was cradling in the palm of his hand—a subtle reminder of just why she found him so exasperating. Jun had never been able to buy into horoscopes or anything superstitious.

"I want to play at Interhigh."

"Impossible," he assessed instantly without even considering it.

Jun ignored that comment and pressed on. "I have to get better quickly in order to even be considered. So... please, help me." She bowed forward, as though it would have any effect in swaying him. The two had not seen eye-to-eye since middle school. The odds of that changing now were slim. And he had been against her entire idea of revenge from the very beginning—no doubt he saw the futility of her trying to go toe-to-toe with someone like Akashi. Even Midorima had never been able to match Akashi.

"Why." He said it without a rise in intonation—as though he wasn't really asking a question but pointing out there was no purpose in it in the first place. "No matter how hard you train, you will not—"

"Tell me honestly. Have you ever thought that about someone before and been proven wrong?"

There was a momentary flicker in those eyes, and then his lips snapped shut. The silence was brief, but he quickly amended his earlier words, "What position are you?"

"Small forward," she answered without hesitation. The hope was starting to build in her chest. Was he actually going to consent to teaching her? "I already asked Miyaji-senpai and he refused." Of course, she had expected him to. He was the team's current small forward and his position was secure—he was a talented player. She would _never_ be able to surpass him – even matching his abilities was too optimistic.

"Seirin is playing a practice match against Kaijou a few days from now." That seemed like a really random thing to bring up all of a sudden.

Jun regarded him quizzically. "Oh...?"

He started walking again, and for a moment it seemed he would not elaborate further. Then, just before he reached the doors of the gym, he peered over his shoulder. Those piercing eyes left her rooted in place. "Teikou's small forward, Kise Ryouta. He's on Kaijou's team."

Outwardly it seemed as though he had rejected her—that he had no intention to help her. But maybe the whole reason he had mentioned that tidbit was because Midorima _couldn't_ teach her what she needed to learn. (Or just as likely, he didn't want to.) Either way, he had provided her with another option. One that was infinitely more appealing than just asking Miyaji-senpai to teach her.

The kind of rapid improvement she would need to accomplish to be ready for Interhigh would not be something she could achieve by being coached normally. She needed someone who had been in a similar position. And while Kise was only someone she had heard about in her time at Teikou, he had rapidly risen through the ranks there. That was _exactly_ what she needed now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Thank you for the reviews for the last chapter! :D I hope you guys enjoy this one, sorry it's coming out a little later than intended.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

In the aftermath of a practice match that miraculously ended with Seirin coming out on top, and the favored Kaijou receiving defeat, Jun found herself wandering around the outside of the gym trying to locate Kise. He seem to have fled while the rest of his team saw Seirin off.

"Hachioji."

The anticipation that had been building up in her chest crumbled pretty quickly once she recognized the voice calling her from behind. Still, she swallowed back her groan and peered over her shoulder. "Midorima-san, I didn't think you would make it."

He readjusted his glasses before answering. The glaring presence of those bandages on his fingers drew her attention, at least until his arm dropped back down to his side. "Takao took too long," he informed, as though he _honestly_ blamed Takao for the hold-up without claiming any personal responsibility.

Jun was aware of how much time the two spent together. Although their friendship seemed largely one-sided from where she was standing. She felt it wasn't her place to comment if Takao wanted to subject himself to Midorima's eccentricities, however. "Are you looking for Kise, too?"

Rather than answer, those emerald irises seemed to study her face. "You still haven't given up."

"The match just proved what I told you before. Just because the odds aren't in my favor doesn't mean that it's impossible. I went to primary school with Akashi—I played basketball with him before he ever joined Teikou. I _know_ what I'm up against." Admittedly, knowing made it that much more obvious that the likelihood of her succeeding was low. But that was why she joined Shutoku – Midorima could make up for what she lacked, whether he wanted to partake in her "revenge" or not.

There was a long pause before Midorima started to walk past her. "Start staying later after practices," he advised before leaving. Was he implying that she should start practicing harder? Or did he mean that he was actually going to help, after all?

She stared after him even after he disappeared around the side of the building. There were few other people in the world quite as perplexing as Midorima. But if he really was going to train her, she failed to understand why he had suggested she come here to begin with. Just to watch Kise play? True that it had been an intense learning experience, and it had motivated her to want to be a better player.

Either way, there was little point in mulling it over more than she already had. Exasperated, she turned to leave – just in time to see Takao peddling up in with a sheath of sweat covering his face. His brows were knit down like he was particularly angry. He didn't even seem to notice Jun. He was obviously looking for Midorima.

_If that was how the two of them intended to get here, it's no wonder they didn't make it in time to see the whole match._ Jun sighed. Maybe she had bitten off more than she could chew—for as good as Midorima was, his quirks left her shaking her head.

—

"Do you always stay after practice?"

He cocked his head. "Are you here for small talk, or do you actually want to improve, Hachioji?"

"I guess that's your tactless way of saying you have no interest in conversation. Alright, let's get to it, then." Rather than answer his question, she added some snark to her quip. "So what's the first order of business? It's just the two of us, so—"

"A one on one match so I can gauge your abilities."

"Wouldn't you be able to see that better if you actually watched me in a practice match?" she asked doubtfully.

Rather than humor her with a response, he turned his back and retrieved one of the basketballs that had rolled to the far end of the court. He tossed it to her and then took a position at the free throw line. "Get past me and score any way that you can."

His lack of explanation was doubly frustrating, but she had little choice other than to comply. As much as she wanted to know what part of this would help her improve, she knew she needed to put faith in Midorima. Beyond being a genius at basketball, he was an intelligent enough person to have nearly matched Akashi. There had to be a method to his madness, whether she saw it or not.

"Okay, I just have to get past you, right?" She tried to reassure herself that it was a simple task, but she could feel the perspiration beading on her eyebrow as she started dribbling. The fear and excitement were already coursing through her veins. Jun could not stop and debate whether it would be possible to get past him – she merely focused on the fact that she had no other choice but to do so.

As soon as she formulated a plan in her head, she darted forward. He was quick to take up a defensive position, his arms extended wide. He obviously knew that she had difficulty with three-pointers – that was why he had made a point of telling her to get _past_ him.

_There's no way a simple crossover will work with you,_ she thought grimly. _So then..._ Wrapping her right arm around her back, she sent the ball bouncing toward her left side, where she caught it with her left hand, just far enough out of Midorima's reach to be able to bypass him and make it toward the basket. _Alright!_

Grinning, she surged forward – only to find her path blocked off again – and before she could reassess the situation, the ball was already out of her grip. Her mind went blank as she chased after him – but it was already too late. Scoring from such a distance was a joke to Midorima; he easily sent it soaring into the opposing basket.

"Compact yourself more," he advised. "You leave yourself wide open."

Her face flushed with embarrassment. What an amateur mistake to make, especially when she'd had the audacity to plead for his help. "I just messed up." Who wouldn't, especially when they _knew_ they were facing an undefeated player from the Generation of Miracles. But he wouldn't hear an excuse, and she would never use one. Not when Akashi was her final goal. He would be far more intimidating than Midorima – she couldn't complain that she was psychologically unprepared if she lost in a match to him.

"No, your form needs work. You need to focus on the basics."

"Are you saying I have no talent? Am I—"

Sighing, he adjusted his glasses. "Whether you have talent or not is irrelevant if you cannot handle the basics. You just started playing basketball last year, didn't you? Who taught you?"

"I taught myself."

He stared at her for a moment. It was almost as though he was stunned into silence – like it was that pathetic that this was the first time she had ever been in a team and received any coaching. In fact, his expression seemed to say, _'How did you even get put on reserve when you're this bad?'_

"I'll work hard to make up for whatever I am lacking. I have the drive."

Midorima regarded her through half-lidded eyes, as though trying to assess how much sincerity lay behind those words. "You will not surpass Miyaji by that alone."

Her heart sunk. So even if she dedicated herself to studying the basics and followed his every word, there was still no possibility? Why had he even agreed to help her if he thought it was so hopeless? Her shoulders hunched forward.

"Hachioji!"

She nearly jumped at the sound of his voice calling her sternly. "Y-yes?"

"Do not waste my time if you are going to be discouraged so easily."

Her lips thinned. "Do you... think I can do it?" That was a foolish question. Of course he didn't think she could do it – he had made that clear before. But then again, if he had absolutely no faith, he wouldn't be wasting his time trying to train her, would he? Unsure, she studied the expression on his face, which was as solemn as ever.

"No, I don't," he said firmly. "If I say that, do you plan to give up?"

Jun took a sharp inhale as she contemplated his words. Even if she wanted to, was it possible to give up? An image stirred in her memory, of her best friend's face flushed with fever. And she remembered the promise she had made to Yuki back then. _"I'll never forgive him. I'll crush him – show him what it means to be in despair." _Her head was clearer now – two years had passed – and she realized how absurd that promise seemed. No matter how hard she trained, she was not a natural genius. It was impossible to ever surpass Akashi.

"Well?" Impatient, Midorima prompted her for an answer, glaring at her through those thick frames.

"No, because I think you'd be lying."

His brows furrowed. "Lying?" He echoed the word back at her indignantly.

"You were never the type to take risks. So if you didn't have some confidence in me, then I don't think you would waste your time."

Midorima averted his eyes. For a moment, he seemed pensive – contemplating the accuracy of her assessment. But at last he said, "You're wrong. The purpose of this was to prove to you that there is no hope for you. You should give up." Those steely green eyes regarded her coldly. As though those words hadn't been enough, he clarified himself, "You will not leave the bench until the seniors retire."

The surprise registered on her face, and slowly her face contorted into one of suppressed anger. Clicking her tongue, she turned on her heel and trudged toward the locker rooms. "If that's all you wanted to say, you wasted your time – and mine! I'm not giving up... I _can't_ give up." Never once did she pause to look back at him. The anger had swelled so in her chest that she thought she might otherwise blow-up at him if she didn't flee the scene.

_"You will not leave the bench until the seniors retire."_

She ground her teeth together as she snatched her schoolbag up, swinging it over her shoulder as she trudged out past the school gates. The sun was already descending, and the sky was blanketed by a palette of pastel colors. Though she hardly took the opportunity to admire the scenery; Jun was too busy stewing in her own anger, seething at the fact that Midorima never really intended to help her to begin with.

—

"'ey kiddo, go to the store." It was late that night when the old woman suddenly burst through her bedroom door, money in hand. And bony, wrinkly fingers held out the crumpled notes toward her granddaughter. That weathered face stared at Jun with expectation.

Sighing, Jun furrowed her brows. "What's this about, Grandma?"

"Need curry powder," she said, thrusting the money into Jun's chest without saying anything more. "Use whats left to buy ya somethin' if ya want."

Initially perplexed at this sudden command, Jun quickly noticed just how much extra money her grandmother had bestowed on her. It was enough to buy some snacks and a couple of comic books at least. Had she noticed that Jun had been sulking most of the night? Their relationship wasn't exactly the best... but maybe the old woman was somewhat observant.

Crumpling the notes in her hand as she gripped them, Jun hauled herself off the floor and started toward the main entrance. Slipping her shoes on, she started off toward the convenience store down a couple blocks over. It was about a fifteen minute walk – and on the way back, she decided to stop at an empty park. Taking a seat in one of the swings, she rummaged through the sack to retrieve the ice cream bar she'd just bought.

_Ah, this brings back memories._ Her chest felt a little empty as she recalled doing this same thing in high school with Yuki. But now she was by herself.

A sweet taste filled her mouth as she took a bite out of the strawberry popsicle in her hand. And as she was busy savoring the flavor, her ears registered the sound of someone crying nearby. Startled, she jolted out of her seat and spun around – only to see no one.

"Someone there?"

The only answer came in the form of sniffling.

"Hello?" Despite feeling initially uneasy, Jun could feel her heartbeat slowing as she spotted the silhouette of a child hidden beneath a slide. "Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?"

The child's shoulders seemed to be trembling as they peeked out from behind the slide – and almost immediately Jun was greeted by two emerald eyes, the same color as the girl's hair, which fell in fine layers just past her chin. "Nnn... Shin-nii-chan?"

Jun could feel her stomach drop. What was this bad premonition? "Uh... are you lost? Are you looking for your brother?"

She gave slight nod.

Somehow, Jun felt she might regret it later, but— "Hey, you want the rest of my popsicle? You can eat it while we go look for your brother." She smiled.

The girl hesitated for a moment before finally giving in with a shaky nod. "O-okay."


End file.
